Providence
by Questfan
Summary: When Joe returns home with a child he claims is his son, the story is not quite what anyone expects. Chapters two, three and four have now been added, as requested!
1. Chapter 1

I realise there is a Providence in Rhode Island, but for the purpose of my story, there is now one in Nevada too. Blame it on a foreigner who doesn't know her geography. This story came out of asking a few questions of my own and not finding all the answers yet.

 **Providence**

Ben settled uncomfortably in his chair and tried to focus on the book he was reading. He had stared at the same page for over half an hour and it still made no more sense than it had at the start. Finally he gave up fighting his distraction and dropped the book down onto the table.

"Pa, why don't we call it a day and head up to bed?"

Ben glanced up to see two of his sons watching him intently. It had been the same for far too many nights where the three of them had tried to pretend that tonight might be the night that Joe came home. Unseasonal late snows had blocked the northern pass and it was a reasonable assumption that Joe had holed up somewhere to wait it out, but with no telegraph line out that way, there was no way to be sure. Not for the first time, Ben knew that his son was in the hands of the Almighty. He just wished the Almighty might give him a hint as to when his son might come home.

"I think perhaps we all need to call it a day, son." Ben smiled as Adam tried to keep his face impassive. As much as his eldest son was trying to herd him to bed, he knew full well that Adam had stayed up many nights and slept in the same chair he now sat in, waiting for his wayward brother to come charging through the heavy front door, full of tales of adventure and wild explanations for his tardiness.

Hoss clambered to his feet and made an exaggerated showing of yawning and stretching the kinks out of his back. "Well I'm all done in, that's for sure."

Ben smiled at his middle son and nodded. He was grateful he had the two of them to share his worries and keep him from straying too far with those worries. After all, Joseph was not a child and he knew how to take care of himself. He would not have risked crossing that northern pass when the snowstorm came. Perhaps if it were a few years ago, he'd have more to worry about. His son had a reckless streak that still surfaced at the most inopportune moments, but for the most part, he'd matured into a young man with a good head on his shoulders.

He stood and stretched, in a poor imitation of his son's efforts and nodded towards the stairs. The words on his lips died as the front door suddenly swung open and a howl of cold wind blew eddies of snow across the threshold. He moved without thought towards the door to push it closed again and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Joseph! What in heaven's name are you … ?" The rest of the question hung in the air as he hurried towards the shadow stumbling into the room. His son held a bundled blanket in his arms and he pushed past his father's grasp towards the fireplace.

"Gotta get him warmed up!" The words held an urgency tinged with fear and the three of them simply gaped as Joe settled himself on the edge of the hearth and peeled back the top of the blanket to reveal a small blonde head nestled against his shoulder.

It was almost as if the world had begun to move in slow motion and Ben stared at his youngest son. It was Hop Sing who broke the spell as he bustled towards Joe with a mug of coffee.

"Warm you too," he nodded as he pressed the mug into Joe's chilled hands and he smiled as the young man gulped the contents in one go.

"Got any warm milk out there?" He watched as Hop Sing scurried back towards the kitchen to meet his request. Joe's family crowded closer as he continued to rub warmth into the child he held in his arms. The heat from the fire was beginning to seep into his back and the colour of his face had shifted from almost blue to a slightly more healthy pink.

Ben reached out a hand to touch the side of his son's face and smiled as his usual cheeky grin surfaced.

"It's good to be home, Pa! We've been on the road for too long."

"It's good to have you home, son. It's been too long for us too."

Joe's grin faded as he considered the concern in his father's eyes. He'd tried to get word to them, but without telegraph lines and nothing getting through the pass, he'd had no way to do so.

"I'm sorry, Pa. I tried to let you know where I was, but there's no lines and …"

His father clamped a hand on his shoulder and nodded. "I know. We knew you'd hole up somewhere and wait out the storms."

"Providence."

"What?"

"It's where we holed up. Providence. A little one-horse town north-west of the pass. I'm not even sure it's still on the map."

Adam listened as his brother talked and he noted how Joe kept rubbing at the child's back and arms as he spoke. So far, he'd said nothing of the child's identity or how they came to be together. As he watched, the blonde curls began to fidget and Joe looked down to see if the child was awakening.

"Hey there." The tenderness in his brother's voice really shouldn't have surprised him, but Adam glanced across to see Hoss staring straight back at him.

"Are we there yet?"

Joe grinned as he nodded. It was a question he had asked many times as a child and he smiled at the tired face that looked up at him.

"Yes, we are there. Do you think you could drink some warm milk?" Joe had noticed Hop Sing hovering behind Adam with a mug in his hand and he waved it over. He didn't wait for an answer before peeling the blanket back a little further so the child could grasp hold of the mug. He noted the gloves on his hands made the mug difficult to get hold of and he kept one hand holding the handle as he tipped it up. When it was finally drained, he held the mug out to his brother and smiled as Hoss took it without question. There were a hundred questions burning in his family's eyes and he was ready to answer them once he took care of the child he refused to let go of.

"Joe?"

"Yeah."

"M'tired."

"Then go back to sleep. I've got you. You're safe here."

Ben watched as his son blinked back a tear and rubbed at it with the back of his hand. The blonde head settled back against his shoulder and it was clear that the child was asleep again in minutes.

Safe here. Where had the child been that he had to be reassured that he was safe?

"Joseph?"

Finally assured that the child was warmed up and settled, Joe began to relax a little. He looked up at the array of faces before him and smiled. A weary smile that betrayed the fatigue he had pushed aside for many days.

"His name is Michael … and he's my son."

"What?"

The look on his father's face would have been almost comical if he had the energy to laugh. He could see the wheels turning and he held up a hand to forestall the inevitable questions.

"Easy, Pa. I'll explain everything, but first … I'm starving!"

It was all the words that Hop Sing needed to hurry back to the kitchen and begin heating something, but Ben was glad he was already sitting on the table or his knees may have betrayed him. He knew his son had many charms when it came to women and judging by what he could see of the child, he was perhaps four or five. His son was only twenty-two, but even knowing what he knew of his youthful irresponsibility, his mind could not bring his heart to believe what he was hearing. If it was true, why had the mother waited this long to tell him? And where was she anyway?

As Hop Sing carried a bowl of stew back from the kitchen, Joe climbed to his feet and deposited the sleeping child onto the sofa. He tugged at the edges of the blanket and tucked them in around the child's shoulders as he leaned forward to gently brush a stray curl off the boy's face. The tenderness in the action made his father's breath catch as he saw his own fathering mirrored in his son. It seemed hours before Joe settled himself back in front of the fireplace and began devouring the bowl of meat and thick gravy with biscuits, while Ben forced himself to hold his tongue. He would give his son the benefit of a listening ear at the very least before he let his thoughts loose.

Adam itched to ask questions, but he could see nobody was going to get anything until his brother had dealt with his hunger first. An air of exhaustion lingered over Joe and he frowned at the vestige of bruises that covered the side of his brother's face. Hoss was hovering in the background and had drifted across to watch the child that Joe had left on the sofa. Adam smiled as he watched his middle brother. For all his size that seemed intimidating to those who didn't know him, Hoss was the softest hearted of the lot of them.

As Joe spooned the last remains of the stew into his mouth, he sighed. It felt good to have actual food in his belly, rather than the rough trail food they'd managed on for the last week. He'd second-guessed his decision to head for home when snow had once again threatened, but as he looked around the room again, he was glad he'd pressed on. It had been the longest seven weeks of his life and the last four days had felt like a month.

"Joe?"

Ben leaned forward to take the bowl from his son's hands and he found himself reaching out to grasp at those hands once again. When Joe had eased off his gloves earlier, he'd noticed the split knuckles.

"Son, what happened to you?"

Joe almost smiled at his father's restraint. He'd managed not to ask the question that was burning to be asked. Such a loaded question. What happened? The world was tipped on its head. That's what happened! He felt his father's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly and he smiled at the face he had looked to all his life to bring steadiness when things tilted sideways.

"Well, I made it to the Harrison's. They've got some brood mares we really should consider buying, Pa." Joe watched as his father frowned at him. The quality of brood mares was not the kind of information he was waiting for. Joe hid a tired smile and continued on as he noticed his brothers had settled into chairs on either side of them.

"I got caught on the way back by a snowstorm that just blew up outta nowhere. The road was blocked and I was forced to backtrack and head west. Found myself in a tiny place called Providence. Apparently it was a thriving mining town once, but I think God might have left there a few years ago now 'cause I couldn't see much evidence of him there anymore."

Ben scratched at his chin as he considered the comment. He'd heard tell of a place called Providence, but knew he'd never been there. It was clearly one of many towns that had sprung up around the prosperity of an ore strike and had petered out when the ore ran out. He didn't care, he was just grateful his son had found a place to shelter when he needed it. Spring snowstorms had killed many travelers caught unaware on the open roads and he shuddered to think what could have happened.

Joe's eyes seemed to be lost somewhere and Ben rubbed a thumb across his son's wrist, noting more bruises.

"I found the hotel … if you could call it a hotel. More like a rattrap with a coupla beds. I checked in and waited for the snow to pass. Each day I'd check to see if the pass was clear and each day I'd walk around the town trying not to die of boredom!"

Adam grinned at the look on his brother's face. Joe had always craved action and the idea of his brother holed up in a town with nothing to do almost made him laugh. Joe would have been going stir-crazy.

"One afternoon I was out walking, when I heard this noise. It was coming from one of the alleyways and when I got there … " Joe's fists clenched as he pulled free of his father's hands. "He was beating him!" The words were low and angry. As Joe looked up to his father's face, his eyes blazed with anger. "He was beating a child!"

Nobody missed it as Joe instinctively looked towards the child sleeping on the sofa and none of them were in any doubt about who was being beaten.

The shopkeeper raised his hand to strike again and Joe grasped at it from behind, squeezing the man's knuckles in a painful grip.

"Leave him be! He's just a child!"

"He's a thief!"

The merchant twisted his hand free of Joe's grasp and pointed to the half-eaten apple on the ground.

Joe's nostrils flared as rage filtered up from his gut. An apple! This was all about an apple! He reached into his pocket and pulled a coin free. As he flung it toward the merchant, he reached forward to scoop the terrified boy into his arms.

"Consider it paid for! And so help me … if I see you lay another finger on him … or any other child for that matter … I'll kill you!"

The merchant scrambled to find the coin that had been tossed his way. It more than covered the cost of the apple and he was desperate enough to degrade himself scrabbling in the mud. Business was slow enough without the snows blocking travelers from passing through. He glared at the stranger who had just stuck his nose where it didn't belong, but as he pocketed the coin, he figured it wasn't worth the trouble of doing anything else.

Joe carried the child around the corner and headed away from the Mercantile before sitting down on the edge of a porch. The child clung to his neck and he could feel deep heaving sobs against his chest as tears soaked into his shirt front. The boy was wearing an oversized shirt that had been rolled up at the sleeves, but it wasn't enough against the chilled air. He waited patiently until the sobs slowed down and the child finally looked up to see the face of his rescuer.

Joe reached out a hand to trace a finger over the edge of the boy's chin as he inspected the bruises on the reddened face. His gut churned with anger as he recalled what he had stopped, but he forced himself to school his face into a calm mask.

"I'm Joe. What's your name?" The child blinked at him as the last of the tears eased up.

"Mama told me not to talk to folks I don't know."

Joe smiled at the earnest little face and he nodded as if considering the idea. "My Pa told me the same thing when I was your age. Good advice."

The child sniffled as he shifted against Joe's grasp. It had taken a little more coaxing before he discovered the child's name and once Michael decided the stranger was trustworthy, he seemed to decide he could spill the rest of his secrets.

Ben watched as his son's face scrunched into a frown again.

"They were living in the livery behind the hotel, Pa!"

"They?"

"Michael and his mother. Hannah. Sleeping in the straw in a draughty old building that leaked something fierce!"

It wasn't the first time that Joe had seen the evidence of life turning cruel or for those who had fallen on hard times, but Ben sensed something about this story was different. Somehow his son had found himself caught up in a stranger's need. He listened as Joe explained how he had finally convinced Hannah to go with him to the hotel. His son had been quick to assure him he'd planned to pay for another room for the woman and her son, but there weren't any. He had to stop himself from frowning as his impetuous son explained how he'd taken a young woman to his own room and settled her and her small son in his own bed.

"I slept on the floor, Pa!"

Adam watched as Hoss' cheeks coloured at the thought, but Joe seemed oblivious to them both. Once again, his eyes drifted off somewhere and it wasn't until Ben nudged his hand again that Joe stumbled on with the story.

Hannah had been wary of the stranger who seemed intent on dragging them both to his room, but something about the way her son responded to him had piqued her curiosity. After all, beggars couldn't be choosers and if it meant her son would have a night in a warm room, she wasn't going to object too loudly. She would just have to keep her wits about her if their benefactor thought he was going to exact any kind of payment from her.

"It took a while before she figured I didn't have some kind of hidden agenda, but eventually Hannah seemed to begin to trust me." Joe smiled up at his father's expression and knew exactly what was going on in his head. Joe hadn't always proven himself worthy of trust and the scenario he was describing wasn't exactly painting a wholesome picture.

"They were hungry and cold and I couldn't have slept in that bed for one minute, knowing they were stuck in that livery stable."

"Course not!" All eyes turned to Hoss as he nodded in agreement. "Wouldn't 'ave been right at all." Ben looked at his middle son and smiled in spite of himself. It was a well-known family joke that it was Hoss who brought home the strays and waifs. Maybe something of his brother's kindness was rubbing off on his younger brother. That still didn't explain how Joe had arrived home with the boy in tow and his mother was nowhere to be seen.

Joe leaned forward and rubbed at his shoulder muscles as he considered how to continue. The warmth of the fire was finally seeping into his bones and driving out the chill that had seemed to be embedded there. It was nothing compared to the chill that had hit him at the doctor's words.

"Pa … when you were traveling with Adam and Hoss … were there ever times when you didn't have something you desperately needed?"

Ben shifted uncomfortably as he considered the question. There had been many nights that he had gone to bed with no food in his stomach because there was not enough to share. He would not deprive his growing sons of the nourishment they needed if he had failed to supply enough for them both. He found his voice stuck in his throat as Adam's hand slipped onto his shoulder.

"Pa often went without food so we could eat." Hoss looked up at his brother's words and frowned. He had no idea of any such thing, but the fact his father didn't rush to disagree was all the proof he needed.

"Pa?"

Adam smiled as he nodded. "You thought I didn't know, but I knew. Why do you think I was so eager to learn to trap?"

Without speaking, Ben grasped his eldest son's hand and squeezed it against his shoulder. Of course Adam hadn't missed a thing! He never did. He looked back to see Joe watching the scene play out. He nodded to himself as if it somehow confirmed what he already knew. A parent would sacrifice many things for the love of a child.

As if on cue, Michael began to fidget and cough in his sleep and Joe was on his feet instantaneously. Ben found himself almost shoved aside as his son reached for the child behind him. He was surprised at the look of fear that spread across Joe's features as he gently pulled the boy into his lap. As Michael coughed himself awake, Joe was rubbing at his back and talking calming words over his head. It was only a few minutes before the little boy settled and his head dropped against Joe's chest once again. For some reason, the look did not shift from Joe's face. It seemed so incongruous that he saw fear on the face that seemed to laugh in the face of fear. Something was not adding up and he reached a hand out to grasp his son's shoulder.

"I shouldn't have brought him this soon. It's too soon!"

"Too soon for what, Joe?"

Once again, his son's eyes were elsewhere and he frowned in frustration.

"Joe?" Adam moved over behind his brother and noted how tightly he gripped the edge of the blanket wrapped around the boy. It took a few more minutes before Joe got his thoughts under control and he looked down at the mop of blonde hair against his shoulder.

"We almost lost him. The doctor made it sound like Hannah had failed as a mother and I …" His lip quivered as he spoke and his father could not decide if it was from fear or anger. Or both.

The doctor had only come because Joe had dragged him out of the saloon. He'd waved money in his face and demanded he do his job. As he'd dragged the man up the stairs to the first floor room, they could both hear the coughing from behind the closed door. Joe clenched a fist into the blanket as he recalled the man's parting shot at Hannah. If she'd been a better wife and mother, her husband wouldn't be dead and her boy wouldn't be dying.

"He was a miserable excuse for a man, but he was the only doc the town had. If we didn't need him so bad, I would have thrown him out there and then!"

Joe closed his eyes as he remembered the distraught look on Hannah's face as she struggled to hold herself together for the sake of her son. She had blamed herself for her son going without sufficient clothing or food or shelter to keep him safe and Joe had been helpless to make her see that she had done her best with what she had. He listened as the doctor gave a list of instructions, even as Hannah had buried her face into her son's pillow. She had taken the doctor's words to heart and believed her boy was dying and it was all her fault.

"I sent the clerk to get the medicine the doc prescribed. We spent four days trying to get his fever under control." Joe scrubbed a hand across his eyes as he remembered the agony of watching the child in his arms hover between this world and the next. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he recounted the doctor's infrequent and almost pointless visits. Each time he came, his breath reeked of whiskey and Joe had finally shoved him from the room and told him not to bother returning.

Finally, one night he'd reached a hand across the boy's face and found the skin beneath his fingers felt cooler. He gently prodded at Hannah's arm as she slept on his bedroll and her exhausted face lifted up; fear gripping her features.

"He's gone?" She barely breathed the words as Joe cupped her face in his hands.

"No. His fever's broken!"

Hannah stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language.

"He … he's …"

A hand reached out to pull her to her feet and Joe led her across the room. As she slid down onto the bed, she tentatively reached out a finger to brush her son's cheek. He still snuffled as he slept, but his cheeks were definitely cooler. Tears dribbled down her cheeks as she turned to face the man behind her. He gently pulled her towards him and embraced her as she felt her knees giving out.

"He's going to be just fine." The certainty of his words seeped into her soul and she smiled up at him while wiping the tears away.

Joe looked at his father and smiled as he slipped over the next part of the story. His father and brothers did not need to know that relief and the flickerings of hope had easily morphed into a response that threatened to steal his breath, even as he recalled it again in his mind. He tasted the salt of her tears as he kissed her cheek. Her arms had tightened around his neck and he found himself lost in her as he kissed her more urgently. He had no idea when an act of charity had been left behind and his heart had run away on him, but he didn't care. As he gave way to his feelings and allowed himself to dream of possibilities, he wondered if Hannah felt the same way. For a moment he pulled back and looked down at her, as if trying to gauge something in her eyes. Her hands slipped from behind his neck and reached around to cup the sides of his face. No words were needed to explain what he saw there and he leaned forward to kiss her again.

"Joe!"

The sound of his father's voice jolted him back to the present and he shook himself back to focus once again. The feel of Hannah in his arms was almost a physical ache and he leaned down to brush a kiss against Michael's curls. Nobody in the room had missed the look of anguish that crossed his face as Joe tried to continue on, but nobody spoke.

"Somehow, in spite of the doc's pathetic doctoring, Michael got better. I asked Hannah to come with me instead of staying there in that awful place. She agreed and we knew we'd haveta wait 'til the snow cleared before heading out."

"But what of her family? Her husband?" Ben watched as Joe flinched at the questions. There was clearly a bigger story behind the picture his son was painting and he walked a fine line between interfering and trying to understand.

Joe's eyes dropped to the floor as he remembered those precious few weeks. It had been wonderful to see Michael getting stronger and he'd relished having them both so close. As they sat together each night, staring into the fire and dreaming of the future, she had let her guard down enough to share her story with him.

"She'd been married off by her Pa when she was just fifteen. Her mother died when she was twelve and he took to drinking." Joe frowned as he recalled Hannah describing the beatings she had endured at her father's hands. Joe had taken many strappings from his father over the years, but never could he imagine his father laying a hand on him in such a fashion. "She was almost relieved when he told her he'd made a match for her, but the man she was married off to was no better. He regularly beat her and she thought a couple of times he mighta killed her if somebody hadn't intervened."

"Some fellas have no business gettin' hitched!" Hoss growled at his brother's description of an abusive husband and he found his fists clenching of their own accord.

"It wasn't until he took to beating Michael that she found the courage to run away." Without realising, Joe had tightened his arms around the little boy who still lay sleeping against his chest. The merchant who had taken out his anger on the boy was bad enough, but what kind of father did that to his own child?

"That's a tough call for a young woman with no family to go to. Where did she go?" Adam leaned forward in his chair and watched as his younger brother struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"She got as far as Providence before he caught up with her. Seems the good folks of that godforsaken town thought a husband's rights took priority over a wife and child's and the sheriff turned a blind eye when he beat her again. The doc told her she should have gone home and been a good wife!" The fury in his voice was barely contained as Joe remembered Hannah whispering the pieces of her sordid tale. He had held her in his arms while she trembled from fearful memories and he had kissed away the tears that rolled out each time. He wanted to hunt down the men who had caused her such pain, but he was denied the satisfaction as they were dead already. All except the doctor! He still drank himself stupid most nights at the saloon and Joe found his hand wandering to his holster each time he saw the man.

"It wasn't until one night that her husband had one drink too many and got himself killed in a gunfight that Hannah knew she had really escaped. Only by then, nobody in the town seemed willing to help her. Her money eventually ran out and they were staying in the livery, trying to hold out until the weather broke so they could leave. She planned to walk to the next town and start over."

Ben scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to recall the map of that area. The nearest town was over fifty miles away as far as he could remember. He looked up to see that Joe was struggling to stay awake and he suggested leaving the rest of the story until the morning.

"No, Pa! I owe it to her. You need to know the woman I knew." The vehement response caught him by surprise and he reached a hand across to his son once again."

"I'm sorry, son. Go on."

"I asked her to marry me, Pa." Ben sucked in a sharp breath at the anguish that crossed his son's face. He was afraid she had turned him down after her bitter experience of marriage, but Joe stared at him and tried to smile. "She said yes. Pa … you would have loved her." Once again tears trickled down his cheek as Joe tried to rein in his emotions.

She said yes! He couldn't believe it when she nodded at his awkward confession of love and tangled marriage proposal. He couldn't understand why the words that usually flowed like honey were suddenly so hard to say. On the long trek home across the pass, he'd had many hours to contemplate that question. Maybe because for the first time in his life, it wasn't just a game. He had lost his heart to a woman whose heart had been broken many times over. The fact she had entrusted it to him to put it back together was a responsibility he looked forward to honouring.

Ben felt his chest tightening into a knot as he watched his son's face. Something had clearly gone terribly wrong.

Joe felt a flutter of fingers against his cheek as she traced her hand down his face, as if committing his features to memory. He had grasped her fingers in his and kissed her fingertips, one at a time. As the ghost of those slender fingers trailed down his face, he knew that it was him who was committing her face to memory. The face that had looked at him with such trust and love was the face he chose to remember.

Adam watched as Joe seemed to wilt before their eyes and he felt completely useless. His brother was totally exhausted; that much was abundantly clear.

"Son," Ben reached a hand across and shook Joe's arm. As much as he didn't want the answer, he knew his son needed to rest and he would not do so until he was finished. "What happened to her?"

Joe swallowed hard and looked around at the four faces watching him. He was finally back where he belonged and yet he felt empty as if his heart had been hollowed out and left to dry.

"The weather finally cleared and I rented a buckboard to bring us home. We'd stopped at the Mercantile for supplies and Michael was sitting on the hitching rail, waiting for me. It happened so fast. I'm … I'm not even sure what started it." Joe rubbed a hand across his eyes as he tried to focus and force out the rest of the story. "Somebody started making comments about …" Joe faltered at the words that he would not repeat. He would not allow the derogatory words to come out of his own mouth about the woman who had done nothing to deserve them. He knew that taking her to his room in the first place had been used to attack her reputation, but he would not have done anything differently, knowing what he now knew.

Once again, Ben found his son's arm flailing wildly and he reached a steadying hand to grasp hold of it.

"I had my gun in my hand before I knew what was happening. I just wanted them to stop. To shut their mouths and stop! I guess one of them thought I was going to shoot because suddenly somebody fired at me. I didn't know who it was, but Hannah … she … Pa she saved my life." The words trailed away as Joe's eyes searched the floor. How could he explain how she had pushed him out of harm's way and taken the bullet that was aimed at his back?

"They called the doc out of the saloon and it seemed to sober him up real quick when saw her. He said there was nothing he could do, except make her comfortable."

Hoss shifted in his seat and tried to hold in the emotion that threatened to overtake him. He could feel the grief rolling off his little brother in waves, but more than that, he couldn't contain the relief that he wasn't hearing of his brother's murder from a noaccount sheriff in a town that seemed to throw away strangers like they had no value.

Joe kept his head down as he tried to compose himself. "I married her, Pa. I asked the preacher to come and marry us. For two hours, she was my wife. It was all I could give her."

"No, son. You gave her so much more than that. You gave her dignity and respect. You gave her love that she had possibly never known. And you gave her son a father."

Ben pulled his son forward as he wrapped his arms around him and the boy he still clung to. He felt his son's tears soaking into his shoulder as he shook violently. Not surprisingly, Michael awoke as he found himself sandwiched between the two men.

"Joe?" The edge of fear was unmistakable as the boy tried to free himself from the blankets around him. "I want Mama!"

It had been several days since he had spoken that out aloud, but exhaustion combined with being awoken from a deep sleep and the child resorted to the thing he wanted most.

Ben ached as he watched history replaying before his eyes and he struggled to breathe as Joe wrapped the child into his arms. "I know. I want her too."

"You left her behind! You left Mama behind!"

Joe felt his heart tearing in two as he stroked the child's hair and tried to bring comfort in the only way he knew how. "Your mama is in Heaven, remember?"

Adam turned back toward the fire as he heard his own words being repeated. How many times had he sat with Little Joe in his arms while the child sobbed and begged for his mother to come back? He forced himself to turn back, offering silent support as his brother once again surprised him.

"Your mama is with my mama, remember how I told you that? My mama is taking real good care of her. I promise."

Ben watched as his youngest son, the least responsible of them all, shouldered the greatest responsibility any man could. Somewhere in the last seven weeks his son had proven himself to be the man his father always knew he would be. He listened as he talked of the joys of Heaven through the veil of his own grief. He watched as Joe pushed aside his own fatigue to ensure a small boy had all the answers and comfort he needed. Joe had described the town of Providence as godforsaken and perhaps there was a grain of truth in that description, but as he raised his eyes upward in a silent nod of thanks, he knew that Providence had smiled on his family once again. His son had been returned to him in one piece and he had brought an extra blessing with him. Ben looked around the room at the faces that made up his family and he smiled. He did not begin to understand a lot of things about the world, but he trusted that the Almighty knew what he was doing and someday he would have his answers.

For now, he was content with having his son back.


	2. Chapter 2

I had no plans to continue this, but a few reviews and messages got me thinking in another tangent. You wanted to know what kind of father Joe would make. Well nobody ever said parenting was easy! Thank you for your interest in this story and your kind comments. I'm sorry that I haven't replied to some reviews, but FFNet is having one of its hissy fits and won't let me.

 **Chapter Two**

Ben leaned on the kitchen door, sipping a cup of coffee and watched as his five year old grandson tried valiantly to spear a piece of sausage onto his fork. He couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face at that thought. His grandson! Who could have known that only three weeks ago his life would be irrevocably changed by the small child that now sat across from Hoss? It felt like he had been with them for far longer and he could not imagine not having him around. He'd watched his son step up to take on a responsibility that many men would have walked away from and he felt immensely proud of him. As he mused about the changes in his youngest son, he watched as Michael tried once again to stab at the piece of meat. It seemed that somebody had forgotten to tell the sausage what was expected of it because Michael was losing the battle. The slippery piece of meat seemed to have a mind of its own as it skidded around the rim of the plate and finally bounced right over the edge and onto the floor.

Hoss stifled a laugh as he watched the battle playing out, but he soon found himself choking back the comment he had intended to make. The child had gone from frustrated to what looked like terrified in the space of seconds. As he clambered from his seat and scrambled around on the floor looking for the piece of sausage, the unmistakable sound of sobbing carried up from under the table.

Joe chose that moment to fling open the front door and call for his son.

"Michael! Aren't you finished on that breakfast yet or are you taking lessons from your Uncle Hoss on second helpings? Come on! We gotta get going. Uncle Adam is gettin' all antsy."

He moved across the room and was about to call out again when he saw his brother's face. Hoss looked like he had when he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar as a child. Only he didn't. Something about it looked off and Joe was about to make a jab at his brother when he realised why he looked so strange.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The fear-filled words filtering out from under the table stopped him in his tracks.

"Michael?"

It wasn't the first time he'd seen his son dissolve in such a fashion and he knew it would probably not be the last. As the desperate litany continued, Joe slowly crouched down beside the table and lifted the tablecloth. The sight in front of him broke his heart as he saw wide-eye terror written across Michael's face.

He knew that no amount of logic or words were going to make any difference at that moment so he crawled under the table and sat down beside the terrified child.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorr …." The words dissolved into hiccups as Joe slowly reached forward and pulled the little boy onto his lap. In the cramped space, he could not sit up, but he bent over the child and stroked the back of his head with one hand as he wrapped the other arm around his body.

Hoss and Ben had moved into the kitchen and were waiting to see how long this latest episode would take to ease up. Hoss looked like he wanted to cry too and Ben clamped a hand on his son's shoulder.

"It ain't right! Dadburnit it ain't right! That little fella's pa put the fear of God into him and it ain't right!"

Ben agreed that it wasn't right in the slightest, but God had nothing to do with it. A violent drunk had seen fit to beat his wife and child and it had fallen to them to try to undo the damage. All of them had been witness to the fallout of a traumatised child's random reactions and all of them felt at a loss as to how to help. For the first few days after Joe had brought Michael home with him, the boy had been so exhausted he had slept for much of it. The lingering effects of his recent illness had taken several weeks for him to fully overcome and by that time, it seemed he had quietly accepted that he was staying put.

Grief was not always easy to gauge in a child and after his initial tired outburst at Joe about leaving his mother behind, he had said nothing else. It seemed he had accepted her loss a little too easily. At least that was how it had seemed to all of them. In one way, it made things easier, but in another, Joe found it entirely unnerving. He recalled only too well his own reaction to losing his mother around the same age and could not reconcile his protracted and vocal grieving with the almost silent and compliant child he found himself dealing with.

Give him time.

The words echoed around in his head as Joe continued to stroke his son's head. It had been the only advice that anybody seemed able to give him and it made him want to scream in frustration. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but he knew otherwise. Time did not heal broken hearts. Time just dulled the pain until it became bearable to smile again. Even though he felt entirely clueless as to what to do, he knew that the child needed more than just time.

"M'sorry," the words drifted up towards him and he tried to see what on earth the child was apologising for. He reached a hand around to lift Michael's chin towards him and he smiled.

"What are you sorry for?"

"Wasting food. Never waste food! Never, ever!" The words rose in pitch and Joe knew his son was repeating a litany that had no doubt been beaten into him. As Michael tentatively lifted a piece of sausage towards him, his eyes dropped down once again and tears began to dribble down his cheeks.

Joe reached for the piece of meat and tried to keep his voice calm. "This fell on the floor?"

A small nod was all he got in response and he clenched his hand around the offending piece of sausage. He wanted to squeeze it into oblivion and as he closed his eyes briefly, he imagined squeezing his hands around the throat of the man who had beaten such fear into the child. In the first couple of weeks that Michael had been with them, he'd found food hidden away in the bottom drawer of his dresser. Hop Sing had complained about it when he'd gone to put clean laundry away and Joe had struggled to reassure the boy that there was no shortage of food. It was like pushing molasses uphill as he knew there had been times where food was scarce. Times before he'd stumbled upon Michael and Hannah in the livery. Times when his father had been too busy drinking to bother putting food on his dining table. It struck him as beyond ludicrous that the same man had then ranted about food and how important it was. He knew it wasn't really the food that was the issue and it was really all about control.

Control. He needed to get himself under control!

Joe opened his eyes and tried to smile reassuringly.

"It was an accident. We all have accidents and they don't mean anything. Now, as I remember, we were going to take you into Virginia City and see about getting you some new clothes and boots. At the rate you're growing, you'll be bigger'n your Uncle Hoss by next month!"

Ben held his breath as he strained to hear what was happening. Michael must have agreed to the plan as the next thing he knew, chairs were being pushed aside and two heads appeared from under the tablecloth.

He watched as the buckboard finally rolled out of the yard half an hour later with the child firmly planted between Joe and Adam on the front seat. It was many hours later that he heard them return and he couldn't help but smile as Michael sought him out to show him the new pair of boots he was wearing.

* * *

The next few weeks went by with no further incidents and Joe began to allow himself to believe things were settling down. That illusion came crashing down one night as shrill screams broke through the darkness and jolted him out of a deep sleep. He scrambled out of bed and bolted to Michael's room. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard other doors opening and he knew someone else was awake and moving too.

"Don't hurt her! Don't hurt my mama!"

Joe pushed the door open and headed straight for the bed, but pulled up short when he found it empty. It only took a moment to find Michael huddled on the floor, squeezing himself into the corner as far as he could go.

The frantic words were still tumbling out of his mouth as wild fists flailed in the air in front of him.

"Easy! Easy there." Joe felt like he was dealing with a spooked horse and he slowly knelt down on the floor.

"Mama!" The scream shook him to his core and Joe rocked back on his heels. Before he could do anything further, Michael jolted out of his nightmare and found himself face to face with a shadow. He tried to scoot backwards and panicked when he realised he was up against something solid.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm …"

The shadow loomed closer and he almost screamed again as he felt himself being lifted and wrapped in a blanket. Words that made no sense flowed over his head and wound their way through the fog of fear that enveloped him. Hands rubbed at his back and something finally broke through the terror as he found himself being rocked back and forth. His mama had done the same thing once, but she wasn't there anymore. His mind gave up trying to reason things out and he allowed himself to just settle into the shadow and go back to sleep.

Joe felt the child go limp in his arms as he paced the floor and he looked up to see his father standing in the doorway.

"Pa, how do I make this stop? How do I make him feel safe? And please don't tell me to give him time!"

Ben crossed the room and wrapped a hand over his son's shoulder.

"Keep doing what you are doing."

"For how long?"

"For as long as it takes, son."

Joe stared at his father and shook his head. There was no magic formula. No quick fix. Just time and patience and love. He'd made his decision when he asked Hannah to marry him and the child in his arms was part of the package. His heart ached that she was not there to help him, but he'd already decided his course of action. No matter what it took, he'd raise her son into a man she'd be proud of.

* * *

As the early morning light filtered through his window, Michael tried to work out where he was. His head wasn't on his pillow and it took a few minutes before he was awake enough to see why. Memories of the previous night came pouring back and he found himself grasping a fistful of nightshirt. He scrunched his eyes closed again and turned his face into Joe's chest, as if he could somehow blot out the images from his nightmare. Something about the man sleeping beneath him confused him. He was used to men who shouted and made him feel small and helpless. His pa had told him he was worthless. His mama said that was a lie and he knew she didn't lie. She'd said that Joe was going to be his new pa and she was smiling when she told him. His insides ached when he thought about that and he couldn't contain it when a small moan slipped out.

Joe shifted underneath him and he held his breath. Mama had taught him to be very quiet when he got up in the morning so's he wouldn't make his pa's head hurt. He didn't want to make Joe's head hurt so he stayed as still as he could and waited.

Joe could feel the wild heartbeat of the child who lay draped across his chest. He'd felt the small fist clutching at his shirt and he'd heard his breathing hitch. Acting solely on instinct, he forced himself to stay still and wait. He didn't want to spook the child any more than he already was.

As long as it takes.

His father's words sounded in his head and once again, he wondered how long that would be. How long until the child clinging to him felt safe and loved? How long until he could let go of the things that stalked him in the dark? How long until he really grieved for his mother instead of keeping it all locked away somewhere? How long until fear was not his constant shadow?

"I wish you were really my pa."

The whispered words seemed like a dream as they floated over him. Joe held himself stock still as he waited to see if there was any more.

"I wish Mama was here."

His hands moved of their own accord and he found himself wrapping them around the child.

"I wish she was here too." Joe looked down to see Michael staring at him, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "And if you'll have me … I really want to be your pa too."

Michael pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed a hand against his eyes. Nobody had ever given him a choice on anything before. The idea rattled him and he frowned in confusion.

"I … I can choose?"

Joe smiled at him as he could see the wheels of thought turning.

"My real pa didn't want me. He told me so!"

"Your pa was sick. He didn't always know what he wanted."

"Mama said the same thing. She said that I needed to mind him and not get him riled up, 'cause he was sick and he couldn't help himself."

Joe felt his insides churning as he ran a hand down Michael's face.

"Yes!" Michael nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, what?" The conversation had shifted and Joe wasn't entirely sure where it had gone.

"If I get to choose … then I choose you as my pa!"

Joe grinned at the expression on Michael's face as he jumped up on the bed. "And I choose you as my son!"

Michael launched himself towards him and Joe barely caught him before he bounced off the edge of the bed. As both of them were giggling, neither had noticed they were being watched.

"I think you're getting the better end of that deal, little brother."

Joe looked up to see Adam standing in the doorway with his hands crossed under his armpits. The stance was so casual and so incongruous with the momentous decision that had just been announced that Joe found himself laughing in response.

"I came to check if things were okay this morning. You had a rough night."

Joe nodded as he saw his brother's expression. He knew that it wasn't just his pa who had been awoken last night.

"Things are more than okay, brother."

His pa was right. As usual.

Time did not heal all wounds, but he would give every last second he had until his son was whole and healed.

As long as it takes. Because that's what real fathers do.


	3. Chapter 3

There are benefits to being on holidays as I have time to write and tinker with this story. I genuinely only meant to write the first chapter, but one of the joys of fanfic for me is reader interaction and input to storylines. I really am done this time and am not going to be writing about Grandpa Joe and his many grandchildren!

 **Chapter Three**

The hairs on the back of his neck bristled and Joe barely managed to stop himself from tugging at the string tie that threatened to strangle him. A faint murmur greeted them as the family had made their way into church and he was under no illusion what had provoked it. The town gossips were having a picnic at his expense and he wrapped a protective arm around his son's shoulder as they slid into their family pew. His brother's firm hand clamped down on his own shoulder as he settled himself and he looked up to nod towards Adam. His brother's calm demeanor helped settle his own wayward breathing and he soon found himself focusing on the preacher instead of the two women whispering together across the aisle.

It wasn't long before Michael began to fidget and Joe found himself smothering a smile as he recalled how difficult he had found it to sit still when he was the same age. His father had only to drop a warning glare his way and he would stop squirming and sit up straight. It wasn't that he didn't like church. It was just that he didn't always understand all the long words the preacher used. He liked some of the stories though and his favourite was always the one about Noah. When he told his father that he would have filled the ark with horses, Hoss had gotten quite indignant with him.

"What about all them other critters, Joe? The possums and the lizards and all them other things that couldn't swim neither?"

Joe wasn't all that interested in possums and other furry things that Hoss seemed to like so much, but he did like lizards. He'd conceded that he'd be okay with Noah putting lizards on his ark along with all the horses in Nevada. It had been no secret even then that Joe was obsessed with horses and Hoss had been placated with the idea he could take other critters along too.

Ben looked across to see his youngest son smiling and gazing off somewhere and he quietly cleared his throat. It was enough to pull Joe back from wherever he was and he managed to look contrite as he straightened up against the pew. It was Ben's turn to smother a smile as he considered that some things never changed.

Michael looked between his father and grandfather, knowing that something was going on, but not really understanding what. He couldn't have defined it as he simply didn't have the words, but something about the two of them together made him feel safe. He'd watched and listened in the weeks since he came to his new home and he'd discovered a new way of being a family that he never knew existed. The men were sometimes loud when talking with each other and Hoss's size had scared him at first, but he'd soon come to see what everyone else knew; that Hoss wasn't scary at all. His Uncle Hoss reminded him of a story his mama had once told him about a giant and he ventured a sideways peek at the man who sat down the pew from them. He'd never seen a man as big as Hoss and the world looked very different from up on his broad shoulders.

As the lady playing the organ began to play the last hymn, Michael stood up alongside his father. He had no idea what the words were, but he liked the music and he listened as his Uncle Adam's voice carried over the top of his pa's. It was deep and smooth and something about it made him feel warm inside. He wished that he could sing like that, but his voice was never going to be that deep. He tried to concentrate on the hymn, but not knowing the words made it difficult to do. Instead his eyes began to wander around the room and he noted the finery that the good citizens of Virginia City were decked out in. His mama had never had such pretty dresses and he wondered what she would have thought of the huge feather that wafted in front of him from the lady's hat. It seemed to dance on its own as she sang and he wondered if it wasn't still attached to the chicken under all that silk and ribbons.

He looked across the aisle and saw a lady staring at him and something about it made him shrink back against his father's leg. Joe felt the shift under his hand and he glanced down to see Michael frowning across the room. He followed his son's gaze and briefly made eye contact with the widow Morton. She was a shrew of a woman and he had sometimes considered that her husband, Wilf had up and died just to get away from her. His father had rebuked him when he'd voiced that comment many years ago, but he still stood by it. The widow had the sharpest tongue in Virginia City and Hoss had once joked that a fella could sharpen an axe on it. Of course, he'd said that out of earshot of his father and Joe found himself having to stifle a laugh as it came to mind at the worst possible moment. He squeezed his son's shoulder and smiled as the boy looked up at him. He watched as the expression shifted from a frown to a tentative smile and when the hymn finished, Joe deliberately pulled the boy onto his lap as he sat down.

By the time the service ended, Joe wanted nothing more than to escape back to the Ponderosa. He had no wish to run the gauntlet of the town's gossips who couched their curiosity in Christian concern and charity. It was his father's idea that it was time to bring the family to church and Joe had been loathe to agree. He felt that Michael was still getting his feet under him and he wanted to shelter him as long as he could.

"Son, if Michael is truly part of this family, he needs to be seen as such. You can't hide him away for ever."

"I'm not hiding him, Pa! It's just that …"

There had been no logical finish to that point and Joe knew it. He had to start somewhere and the monthly church picnic had been designated that starting point.

Hoss plonked himself down and nudged at Michael's arm. "Hey, little fella, how's about we take a looksee at what Hop Sing made us for lunch?"

Ben was off somewhere talking business with one of the other ranchers and Adam was leaning up against a tree, talking anything but business with Maisie Hawkins. Joe smiled as he watched his brother's smooth moves charming the pretty young brunette he'd danced with a few times the night before. Joe had surprised his father by declining to attend the dance with his brothers and instead had sat on the sofa reading a book. He'd held his tongue about Joe's usual eagerness to get there and dance with every girl in the room, knowing it was far too soon.

As Joe snagged a piece of fried chicken from under Hoss's nose, his brother grumbled something about starving as he dug further into the basket. Michael watched as the two of them made comments back and forth and he tried to make sense of them. It sounded like they were arguing, but they were laughing as they spoke. Before he could get his thoughts around things, a woman came sidling up to Joe and slipped an arm around his waist. An emotion he could not define crawled up from his stomach and he almost spat out the chicken still in his mouth. She reminded him of the saloon girl he'd seen in Providence. All desperate eyes and slippery hands. Joe disentangled himself from her arm and stepped sideways as she moved to try again.

"Now, Little Joe, we've missed seeing you around Virginia City for months now. I didn't see you at the dance last night and I'd saved you a spot on my card."

"Well, I've been outta town for some time and only just got back a few weeks back. I've been kinda busy and … well …" Joe scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to once again sidestep her hands.

"And just who is this handsome young gentleman you've got here?"

Michael scooted a little closer to Hoss who was torn between standing in the company of a lady and keeping close to the little boy who looked like he wanted to bolt. In the end he decided that Joe could deal with Stella on his own and he pulled out a napkin and made a show of dabbing at Michael's chin with it.

"Stella, this is Michael." As Joe waved towards the child and made no move to explain any further, Stella dropped to her knees alongside the boy and began to ruffle his hair.

"Such lovely curls you have. Joe, I seem to recall hearing that you had sweet curls when you were a little boy too."

The seemingly innocent comment had Joe's blood boiling and Hoss moved to forestall his brother's anger. Michael was looking decidedly uncomfortable and Hoss reached to pat his hand.

"Well, Michael's mama had the prettiest dang curls too and I guess he just takes after her."

Joe felt his fist unclenching as he looked at his older brother's innocent expression. He'd described Hannah to them more than once and Michael most definitely favoured his mother's blonde hair and blue eyes. He had no idea what the boy's father looked like and had never asked. He didn't really care to know anyway and it no longer mattered.

"Ohh," Stella cooed as she leaned back on the picnic rug. "And just when might his mama be coming along?"

"My mama's in Heaven … with Joe's mama." The whispered answer caught them all by surprise and Joe felt his breath hitch as he watched the child crumple before his eyes. He silently cursed Stella and all the other busybodies who had been watching the action from underneath their Sunday best bonnets.

Stella at least had the good grace to look embarrassed and she began to climb to her feet. On any other day, Joe would have reached out a hand to help her, but he was too concerned with getting past her and reaching his son instead. By the time he got to him, Michael was shaking and tears threatened to spill as Joe picked him up.

"I think it's time we went home, Hoss." His brother was already gathering the remnants of the picnic into the basket and could see his father and brother heading their way. Stella was still standing on the rug and Joe wanted to nudge her with his boot and make her move. He pulled in the thought and turned to head towards the wagon before he could do anything stupid. As he hurried away, he could make out murmurings and frowning faces looking his way.

"Always knew that boy'd sow some wild oats in the wrong place one day."

"Poor Ben … he must be so disappointed."

"Well money doesn't guarantee good breeding does it."

"Suppose the mother was some floozy he had hidden in another town."

The poisonous words felt like arrows in his back as Joe scrambled to shield his son from the onslaught. He knew it was only a small minority, but it felt like an entire army arrayed against him. He wanted to do what he usually did and shout down any argument. If it weren't the women doing the talking, he would have taken a swing at those who were throwing out such spite.

As he hoisted Michael up onto the seat of the wagon, it didn't escape his attention that the child desperately grasped at his arm, as if not wanting to break contact. He climbed up beside him and pulled the boy onto his lap. His father's calm voice beside him steadied him as he struggled to keep his mouth shut. He would not give the gossips the satisfaction of responding to them and the tears soaking into his chest were of far more immediate concern than his tattered reputation.

It was several miles down the road before he realised that even though Hoss was riding silently alongside them, Adam was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Adam watched as the wagon rolled away and he'd seen his father's frown as he made no move towards his own horse. He'd sensed the atmosphere change as Stella sidled up to Joe and he'd been watching as Joe had tried to pull away from her. The girl was pretty enough to have caught Joe's eye when she first began to flirt with him, but her flighty nature and vicious tongue had made short work of that attraction. Joe might have been a sucker for a pretty face, but he would not long tolerate cruelty. When Stella had chosen to whisper comments about a young woman who was new to town, Joe had heard her and seen past the prettiness. The ugliness was hidden only just below the surface.

Adam stood and watched as the picnickers attempted to smooth over the awkwardness left in the wake of the departure of his family and he nodded as the preacher made his way towards him.

"I'm sorry Adam. That should never have happened and that poor child is welcome here in the house of God."

"Thanks."

Adam stared at the man and took in the earnest face before him. He was new to Virginia City and didn't know any of them well yet. Still, his outstretched hand proved he meant what he said. Adam glanced around to see others watching them and he slowly stepped forward.

"You all sat in that building this morning and heard the preacher here talk about a lot of things. It was a fine sermon and I'd just like to add something to it. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. I'm assuming you all know those words since they come from the Bible. I've heard sermons where that word charity is also translated as love. The greatest of these is love. My brother may not always get it right, but for those of you who pointed the finger at him, you couldn't be more wrong. Dead wrong!"

He could hear murmurings and he barely managed to hold himself in check.

"It's true, Michael is his son. But not because Joe dishonoured any woman. In fact, the opposite is true. My brother gave honour to a woman that the world had chosen to spit on. He brought home her child to raise as his own after she died."

Adam could hear quiet gasps as understanding sunk in. He had no wish to share the details of Joe's story, but he would not stand by and let a few malicious gossips sully what his brother had done and tar Michael with a stain he did not deserve.

"My brother knows more about love than some of you will ever discover in an entire lifetime. Instead of adding to his pain, you might try taking a leaf out of his book. Learn a little about compassion."

Adam didn't bother waiting for any kind of response, knowing he'd made his point. He spun on his heel and stalked towards his horse, smoothly pulling himself up into the saddle and heading for home.

* * *

It was two weeks before Joe agreed he was ready to head back to church with his father. Michael sat silently, leaning against him as the sway of the wagon lulled him almost to sleep. Joe felt his gut churning wildly the closer they got to Virginia City and he wished he had argued louder against the idea. As if sensing his unease, Ben reached a hand across and squeezed his shoulder.

Some time later, he sat in the family pew and he listened intently as the preacher opened his Bible and began to read. It was a verse he knew well.

"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."

Adam lifted his eyes to the ceiling as he barely held back a smile.

* * *

A/N: this really is done! I'm off on a roadtrip shortly and am not adding anything further. Thank you for those who nudged out the last two chapters and I hope you enjoyed them. You've gotta love big brothers!

1 Corinthians 13:13

* * *

Well it was done! Thanks to a good idea from a reader, there is one more :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, I know I said I was done. But then I got a message asking for a Christmas chapter. I tried to tell my brain to go to sleep, but it wouldn't. I'm off traveling tomorrow and if I have no clothes to wear because I forgot to pack any, I blame this chapter. I also couldn't resist taking the mickey out of myself after saying I was not going to be writing about Grandpa Joe :-)

 **Chapter Four**

Alice paused on the top of the landing and shrugged her shawl a little higher around her shoulders. The fire that roared in the hearth, day and night throughout the winter months, cast long shadows across the room. She felt her mouth twitching in a smile as she considered her husband's legs sprawled across the table and a voice echoed in her memory.

"Joseph, what are tables for?"

Every time, without fail, Joe would pull his feet back and plant them on the floor as he grinned at his father. Gradually he would settle into the sofa and somehow his feet would find their way back up onto the table. Until his father would look sternly at him and start again.

She stepped quietly down onto the floor and made her way across the room, hoping not to disturb either of its occupants. A mother's ear is always finely tuned to a child's need and even though the child was not hers, she could still hear the faint snuffles of a blocked nose. She paused as she looked down at the face she loved more than life itself and could not resist planting a kiss on Joe's forehead. The grey streaks in his hair were turning to white and she wondered how long before he looked as white as his father had when she first met him. Of course, Joe had been going grey when she first saw him, but the youthful energy in his cheeky grin and the spark in his eyes that he reserved just for her, offset any signs of aging.

Alice smiled as she wondered how sore Joe's back would be when he woke up, given the angle he was lying at. The chairs that had graced the room when she first came to the Ponderosa had long since served their time and the newer ones that she had ordered all the way from Boston were plump and solid and sturdy. That didn't change the fact that sleeping with his neck turned sideways was going to make for one very grouchy husband if she didn't wake him up. Hannah lay stretched across his body and even in sleep, his hands were wound around her protectively. Her cheeks shone red in the glow of the fire and Alice traced the back of her hand over the child's forehead, checking for signs of fever. Teething was never fun, but this little one seemed to be getting the worst of it and had kept them all up for over two weeks as her back molars made their presence known.

At that moment, Joe shifted and blinked open his eyes. He smiled up at her and Alice sucked in a breath. It was Joe's smile that had first stolen her heart and it was still her greatest weakness.

"What time is it?"

"Almost one."

Joe leaned down to bestow a kiss on the blonde curls in his arms and he smiled again. "A whole hour! She's been asleep for one whole hour. I think that's a record."

Before Alice could speak again, she heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see Michael making his way towards them. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and tried valiantly to stifle a yawn.

"Pa, I came down to let you go to bed."

"We're okay. I think now that she's asleep, her pillow had better stay put!"

Michael leaned over to see that his daughter was actually asleep with her thumb firmly wedged in her mouth. He resisted the urge to pick her up and instead settled himself on the sofa.

Once again, he could not contain a yawn and his father nodded in sympathy. "I'd forgotten how hard this can be. I skipped this part with you."

Michael didn't respond, but he looked up to see his parents watching him. Neither of them were biologically his, but he could not have loved them any more if they were. It had been many years since he thought about his real father, but at that moment a memory flared in his mind and he flinched.

Joe didn't want to disturb the child finally resting peacefully, but he noted that Alice hadn't missed the reaction and she settled herself next to their son on the sofa.

"I can't remember what he looks like anymore."

"Who?"

"My father."

The comment seemed to have come out of nowhere and Joe felt an uneasiness rising up his chest as he watched the firelight playing over his son's face. He had no idea what to say so he waited to see what had prompted it.

"I can't imagine him soothing me back to sleep when I was teething."

Joe frowned as he considered the idea. He was forced to agree that the man he only knew from his wife's revelations did not seem like the type to care about his son's sore gums.

Michael looked up and stared at his father as memories filed through his mind. Every time he had awoken screaming from a nightmare or had been confined to bed with a childhood illness, this man had been there. His grandfather and uncles had been right behind him and always in the background was a beloved Chinese man who slipped him cookies and patted his head.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he considered something else. "I can't remember what Mama looked like either."

Joe's heart lurched as he heard the pain in the whispered comment. "She was beautiful. And all you have to do is look at this little one and you'll see her every time."

Michael looked at his youngest child sleeping in his father's arms. The blonde curls were damp with sweat, but she was the only one of his children to bear his colouring. His two sons favoured their mother more, although all of them had blue eyes.

Alice squeezed his arm as he sucked in a slow breath and pulled himself together. She knew all the details of Joe's first wife and had sometimes wondered what her life would have been like, had Hannah not stepped in front of a bullet to save him. It was a pointless exercise and she rarely allowed herself to entertain it. Instead, she had been gifted with a husband and stepson who she adored. Michael had stood at his father's side as she had made her vows to love and cherish them both. Even as more children had come along, there was something unique about Michael's place in his father's heart and she thought she knew what it was. He had chosen this particular child. And Michael had chosen him.

"Son, why don't you go on back to bed? You know there's going to be a stampede in a few hours and you'll be exhausted."

Michael grinned as he considered what was coming. It was Christmas morning and in a few short hours the rest of the family would be awoken as excited children came clambering down those stairs to see what was under the tree. He'd brought his family to stay over a week ago as it was easier than trekking up from the valley in the snow. His younger siblings would all have said they were far too old to be excited over Christmas, but he knew that at fifteen, his baby sister would still be racing his own children down the stairs come morning.

"Do you remember my first Christmas here?"

"How could I forget? Hop Sing hovered over you all day after you threw up on the stairs the night before!"

Michael groaned as he remembered the mountain of buttered popcorn he'd eaten instead of stringing it up for the tree. Of course, Uncle Hoss had devoured twice as much, but at some point his stomach had protested. He hung his head as he thought about the mess he'd made and how terrified he'd been that he'd be punished for it. Joe had never once beaten him as his father had, but it had taken a long time before he was sure of that.

"I had no idea what Christmas was all about. We'd never had turkey or gifts or anything."

Joe swallowed down the lump in his throat as he recalled the first time he'd seen his son. The child was cold and dirty and living in a livery stable. No, Christmas celebrations wouldn't have been high on his list of life experiences.

"When Hop Sing put that turkey on the table, I thought it was going to break the table! It was the biggest bird I'd ever seen."

Joe laughed as he remembered his son's eyes almost popping from his head. "You thought we couldn't possibly eat all that food, but you didn't count on Hoss!"

A flicker of a shadow crossed over his face and Alice noted as her husband forced his smile to stay put. It had been many years since Joe had lost his brother and even though she had never met the man, she felt that she knew him. His memory lived on, as large in their hearts as he was in life.

"I'd never seen such a feast! I couldn't imagine that much food in one place."

"You didn't know where to start. At the end, Hop Sing brought out those Chinese rice desserts and you ate half the plate!"

"Grandpa hated those things."

Joe looked up with surprise. His father had never let on that he didn't like them because Hop Sing was so proud to bring a little of his culture to the Cartwright celebration.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I caught him once sliding them into a napkin in his pocket."

Alice laughed as she considered the man with good table manners and social grooming, hiding sweets in his pocket. "He fed them to the chickens."

Joe looked across at his wife and grinned. "You knew about that too?"

"Of course. A woman doesn't miss these things." She smiled sweetly at him and dipped her head a little.

"Woman, you don't miss anything!"

Michael leaned his head back against the sofa and smiled as he listened to his father's voice. The gentle teasing and the daily humour his father found in life had rubbed off on all of them. It had taken him a long time to figure out the nature of the relationships in his new family and he closed his eyes as he thought about it. At just five years of age, he had no idea how very young his father was when he brought home a small child to raise. Michael's own brother was just barely gone twenty-one and he wondered if Eric could do the same job his father had done. Of course, there were women in the house now and he knew that things would be different, but somehow that made it all the more incredible what his father had given him. He slowly opened his eyes and found his father watching him intently.

"It was snowing the night you brought me here."

Joe wondered why they were suddenly taking a wander down memory lane as it had been many years since Michael had talked of any of these things.

"You said we had to push on and get home. It was so cold and I had no idea where we were, but you knew we were on Ponderosa land."

Michael sat up and rubbed at his chin. "How did you even know that? This place is huge and yet you knew, even in the dark, that you were home."

"I was born here. My roots are dug deep into this land and I just knew." Joe could not define what it was, but he felt such a deep connection that it felt like a physical ache when he was removed for any length of time. His brother had settled in Boston in his grandfather's house and while Joe was happy for him and the life he'd made, it wasn't his. The Ponderosa was in his blood.

Alice looked across at her husband and smiled as his eyes drifted off somewhere. Her children had all been born in the same house and shared the same bond with their father. Did it bother Michael that he didn't have that? She looked upward to the stonework above the fireplace and smiled at the row of stockings hanging there. Each one was different. Joe's was faded to a dull brown, but the delicate hand stitching still reflected a mother's love as she had stitched his name onto it over half a century ago. Next was hers; a beautiful piece made of reds and greens that Joe had made for her the first Christmas they were married. Beside it hung four others that looked similar in styling and she knew that Inger had made them from scraps she had pieced together somewhere in the back of a wagon as it crossed the land. She had finished the one for her baby before he was even born, but she had made it in anticipation of Christmases to come. Adam's still hung there alongside his family's and she knew he'd chosen to leave a small part of himself on the Ponderosa, as though he was still physically linked in some way. In the opposite way, Jamie had taken his with him when he'd left to seek his future, saying he wanted something of home with him wherever he went. A delicate lacey one was Marie's and Alice smiled as she visualised Ben Cartwright giving detailed instructions to a seamstress about what he wanted for his beautiful young wife. Further along were the ones she had stitched herself for her three children. Sarah had also brought theirs along as she and Michael had gathered their family into the Cartwright home for Christmas celebrations. The brightest and newest one belonged to the little blonde-haired angel still sleeping on her grandfather's chest. In the middle of the fireplace was one stocking that stood out. It wasn't red as the rest of them were. Or once had been. It had once been a vibrant blue, but had faded a little over the years. Tears pricked at her eyes as she considered the little stocking and how it came to be. Michael caught her staring at the stocking and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Mrs Miller thought I was being ridiculous."

Joe looked up to see what he was talking about and he realised both of them were looking at the blue stocking.

"She said blue wasn't a proper Christmas colour and I was being too indulgent in letting you choose it."

Michael laughed as his father imitated the old widow who had tried several times over to convince him that blue was all wrong. But it was the only colour he could have chosen. It was the colour of his mama's eyes. His father knew that and once again, he felt a wash of gratitude for the man who had understood so much when he didn't begin to even understand himself.

"You let me choose the things that mattered." Michael felt tears burning in his eyes as he remembered a morning long ago when he had sat up in bed and chosen the best gift anybody could have offered him. He'd chosen his father.

Hannah chose that moment to wake up and she began to suck her thumb while snuffling loudly through her blocked nose.

"Well hello there, me darlin'." Joe allowed himself to slowly sit more upright and he tried not to frown at the kink in his neck. Hannah snuggled closer to his chest and he stroked the back of her hair as she settled again.

"Pa, I think it's time for bed." Michael reached across to wrap an arm around his daughter and she only protested slightly as she transferred from one set of arms to another. She burrowed her face into his shoulder and he smiled as he considered the man standing in front of him.

"Thank you." The words were barely a whisper and Joe could see the emotion battling across his son's face. He reached a hand to cup the side of his face and choked back the lump that almost made him stop breathing. A lifetime of words passed unspoken as he found there were no words anyway.

Alice slipped her hands around her husband's waist as he watched the two of them climb the stairs. He slowly turned to embrace her and began to sway with her in his arms.

"May I have this dance, Mrs Cartwright?"

Alice swatted at his arm and smiled up at him. "You do know it's almost three o'clock?"

"So?"

"Well in two hours there is going to be a horde running down those stairs."

"So?"

"Don't you think Michael is right? It's time for bed."

"Good idea!" Joe grinned at her and Alice felt her knees buckling as her breathe caught in her throat.

Without warning, Joe scooped her up into his arms and it was all she could do not to squeal. The house was far too quiet and she bit her lip to keep silent.

"That used to be easier," Joe frowned as he headed towards the stairs.

Alice smiled as she reached her hands around his neck and began massaging the muscle under her fingertips. As they passed the huge Ponderosa pine that was covered in ornaments and almost empty popcorn strings, she leaned around to whisper in his ear.

Joe stopped and looked at her. Her hair was greying and there were lines on her face where there had once been smooth skin, but at that moment, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I love you too."

He smiled as he climbed the stairs with his bride in his arms.

"Are you ready for your Christmas gift?"

* * *

A/N: I figured Joe deserved a little happiness too and giving him back Alice was my Christmas miracle for him.


End file.
